


Give Up The Fight

by asphodelknox



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Singing, Sleepy Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelknox/pseuds/asphodelknox
Summary: Harry and Louis are in Jamaica so Harry can record his upcoming album. After a particularly bad fight, Harry decides to play one of his new songs to wake up Louis the next morning.





	Give Up The Fight

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction with mature and/or explicit content that is not suitable for readers under the age of 18. I absolutely do not condone minors reading this work of fiction and encourage anyone underage to stop reading immediately. Thank you.

 

Harry rolled onto his back and blinked his eyes open. He could hear the soft crash of the waves outside the window, and the steady breath of the man next to him. He lay there, staring at the ceiling for just a moment, listening to the in and out of breath, the birds chirping in the sunrise. Light was casting lines of light on the ceiling and the walls.

In. Out. In. Out.

He turned his head and looked at the figure next to him. He traced over Louis’s form with his eyes, the slender neck, the tucked in shoulders, the delicate hands. His even breathing calmed Harry, the pillars of light rolling over the freckles and tattoos of Louis’s skin.

Harry reached out a hand and trailed his fingers across Louis’s shoulders, down his right arm, and back up. Louis’s didn’t stir, not entirely, but he did take a deeper breath. It was a sound Harry found both familiar and foreign.

Harry blinked, hard, and wasn’t surprised to find a few salty tears falling over the bridge of his nose.

Last night had been a bad one.

The two had fought. The first fight they’d had in almost three months. They’ve been doing so well. They’d tried so hard to focus on the good things. They’d tried so hard to not despair at their situation. Harry thought for a moment and figured it didn’t matter what they had fought about. What mattered was what happened next. Now.

Somehow, no matter where they went in the world to escape, they couldn’t run away entirely. Even here in Jamaica, recording Harry’s album, the real world still threatened to enter in where it was a most unwelcome guest.

But still...Harry couldn’t write this album without Louis. And even if the trip wasn’t exactly like he’d imagined it, he’d never written this much in such a short amount of time. He hadn’t seen Louis’s eyes light up whenever he walked into the room in a long time. He hadn’t been able to be so close to Louis without worry in...probably years.

They tried so hard not to be jaded. Not to blame each other.

He had to admit, they were getting better, even if the fights somehow got worse the farther apart they got. Maybe they made up for lost time?

Harry shook his head to himself. He resolved to hold in his temper. To take deep breaths. To listen to Louis’s fears. Wasn’t Louis more important than any fight? Wasn’t he more important than how right Harry was or how angry he was? Louis was the most important thing in the world to Harry. He just did a lousy job of showing it sometimes.

But even if they couldn’t run from the world completely, he was here now with Louis. For the first time in years, they didn’t have paparazzi on their backs, the other boys constantly interrupting, managers warning them off being “too gay”.

Instead, they were surrounded by Harry’s band, who didn’t care what Harry did in his bed or with whom. Harry and Louis were surrounded by blue water, warm days, and plenty of time to write together, sing together, and talk.

And apparently, fight.

Harry grimaced, hearing Louis’s high voice in his head, drenching in hurt. His eyes bearing into Harry’s soul, taking him apart piece by piece, until they both had sighed heavily, wrapped their arms around each other and went to bed. They had spooned like they always did, and kissed goodnight. It helped ease a bit of the tension.

Louis’s breath hitched next to Harry in the bed. He didn’t deserve to be worried or frustrated or fought with, Harry thought. This perfect man next to him was his lifeline, his other half.

Somehow, Harry did a poor job of reminding Louis of how important he was to Harry.

He sat up, rubbing his face. No more of that. It was time to wake his sweet creature from sleep.  
  


 

Louis woke to acoustic guitar. At first, he thought Harry had put on some of the classical guitar music he liked to listen to whenever they got in a fight. It had somehow become a tradition, easing them into a peaceful, post-fight morning, rather than a tense one. But as he stretched, opened his eyes, and the room came into focus, he realized that the guitar sounds weren’t coming from a radio or their speakers.

They were coming from Harry.

He had picked up the acoustic and was sitting on the floor by the door to the deck, his back against the sliding glass. He was backlight, but Louis could see enough of Harry’s face outlined by the light, Harry’s tattoos jumping out at him from across the room. Harry was playing a tune that Louis was sure he’d heard before but couldn’t place. Louis propped himself up on his left elbow and raised a sleepy eyebrow, his eyesight hazy in the morning.

“Haz?” He mumbled, yawning. Harry had only started playing guitar recently, and regardless of the circumstances in which they went to bed, it was still an image that sent Louis’s stomach into flips.

Harry smiled softly at him. Then he began to sing.

_Sweet creature_

_Had another talk about where it's going wrong_

Harry’s fingers struck the chords softly, carefully. Louis watched his fingers and let the words wash over him, like a balm for a sore heart.

_But we're still young_

_We don't know where we're going_

_But we know where we belong_

Louis reached to the nightstand and grabbed his glasses, smiling back at Harry when his boy came into focus. He was a vision.

Harry’s hair always had a mind of its own in the mornings, sticking out at odd angles. Louis could tell he had run his hands through it, trying to tame it. Harry’s eyes still had a trace of sleep around the edges, and his whole body looked soft and warm.

_No, we started_

_Two hearts in one home_

Louis grinned to himself and got out of bed. He walked over to Harry, sitting just next to him under the fretboard, tucking himself into Harry’s side as he played, and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. He could hear Harry’s voice in his throat, feel the vibrations against his cheek. Louis closed his eyes. He listened.

_It's hard when we argue_

_We're both stubborn_

_I know but, oh_

_Sweet creature, sweet creature_

_Wherever I go, you bring me home_

_Sweet creature, sweet creature_

_When I run out of rope, you bring me home_

Harry finished the song, letting the final notes reverberate throughout the room until all they could hear were crashing waves outside, and their own breath, in rhythm together. Louis kept his eyes closed.

In. Out. In. Out.

“I’m sorry, Lou.” Harry said, quietly, laying the guitar across his lap. Louis nodded.

“I am too, love.” Louis reached a hand to curl around Harry’s where it rested in the fretboard, gripping his fingers tight. “When did you write this one? I like it.”

Harry chuckled and Louis could feel the rumble of it deep in his chest. “It was the first song I wrote for the album actually. Like three months ago, I had the lyrics floating around in my head. I hadn’t had a chance to play it for you yet.”

“Have the boys heard it?”

Harry shook his head. “You still get first dibs on hearing my songs.” Louis could feel the corner of a smile in Harry’s cheek.

“I like having that privilege.” He said softly.

Harry leaned forward to set the guitar on the floor and turned to face Louis. He scooched closer, resting his forehead on Louis’s.

“No matter how much we argue…” Harry started, then stopped. He could be so eloquent in a song...why not in actual conversation? There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to make sure Louis knew.

“You’re still home, Haz.” Lou finished for him. Louis always knew. He always knew where Harry was going, what Harry was thinking. Being able to look at Harry across the room and understand the minute flashes of emotion across his face was one of Louis’s real joys.

He knew his man. And he knew when it was better to give up the fight and lean in.

Louis tilted his head and kissed Harry’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose. He kissed Harry’s nostrils, his cupid’s bow, the corners of his mouth. Harry trailed a finger down Louis’s arm and kissed him back on the lips.

Harry and Louis had kissed a lot. When you’ve been at it for seven years, you get in a lot of practice. But now, after years on the road, a year of calm during the hiatus, and now the flurry of new projects and families, sometimes kissing Harry felt like new. Like Louis could kiss him for years and still never quite understand the feel of Harry’s lips on his, the warmth of his hands on Louis’s shoulders, his back, his waist, his jaw.

Harry trailed his fingers up Louis’s arm as they kissed, coming to rest his hand on Louis’s chin. He traced the sharp cheekbones and defined jaw of Louis’s face. Their tongues slide together, and Louis sighed, a soft noise echoing from the back of his throat.

Harry grinned and broke away. “I love you, Lou.” It meant even more after a fight, after the worry and the frustration and the negativity. “I’m not great at making sure you know, but you’re the most important part of my life.”

Louis looked Harry square in the eyes. “I love you too Hazza. I don’t ever want you to forget it.” Harry nodded and leaned in to kiss Louis again, this time gripping the other man’s neck and pulling him in more urgently. Louis responded by climbing into Harry’s lap, a leg on either side of Harry’s hips, wanting, needing, to be closer, closer, closer.

 _Harry. Harry. Harry._ The refrain in his head. Louis could write whole songs of just Harry. His skin, his smell, his name, his voice. The way the butterflies never left and made him feel eighteen again.

Louis felt Harry’s hands skirt around him, fleeting touches on his waist and finally landing on his lower back and pressing Louis in even closer. A guttural noise escaped Louis’s throat.

The sun stopped casting pillars of light across the ceiling and as Louis pushed Harry back onto the floor, littering his neck and chest, and shoulders, and face with kisses, the sun stretched out over the horizon, illuminating the whole room. Light trailed over their tattoos, rose and dagger, ship and compass, oops and hi.

And as they stripped each other bare, gasping in pleasure, and smiling in satisfaction at the noises the other let escape, the fight, the night before, faded away. Little was left except each other, the moments of intimate closeness, rising together before coming as one.

Louis curled into Harry’s side, spent, happy, and lazy, kissing Harry’s skin with deliciously slow kisses. Harry had an arm curled under his own head, and the two could just see out the sliding glass door at their feet.

“Make-up sex is by far the best part of fighting.” He said, grazing his fingers up and down Harry’s chest.

The rumble of a chuckle in Harry’s chest vibrated against Louis. “Hey, I think waking up to a song after a fight would be pretty great.” He grinned cheekily at Louis, who couldn’t help but grin back. Waking each other up with songs, poems, stories had been something they’d done for ages. Louis had first sung Home to Harry after a particularly brutal fight. Harry had first sung the chorus to If I Could Fly the morning before they had to be separated for three months.

“Well, it was the best way to wake up.” Louis conceded. “You should make it a single.”

“I’m hardly at the point of deciding singles, Lou. And besides, you’re always partial to the songs I wake you up with.” Harry grinned. His boy’s enthusiasm never failed to make him feel like a million butterflies were pouring out of his chest.

“Yeah, but you can let it float around in your head for a while. Keep pitching it as an idea. That’s what I’ll do when I get to put my album together.”

Harry didn’t miss the twinge of sadness in Lou’s voice. The fact that Louis’s own solo projects weren’t going in the directions he wanted was hard on both of them. Harry wished he could pull Louis away and write an album just the two of them. It would be their most sacred project. They could do it exactly how they wanted.

“I can’t wait to hear the singles you pick, babe.” Harry said, pausing Louis’s hand on its journey up and down his stomach. He rested their hands on his chest and sighed. Louis nuzzled his shoulder.

The beautiful things about being in Jamaica weren’t limited to Harry working on his first album. The beautiful things about Jamaica were the mornings for just the two of them. Two could wake up and start the morning as one, touching, breathing, taking in every detail of each other. The time was unstructured, with no meetings or agenda or plan. They could simply be, as they were, without fear of the outside world caving in their personal paradise. Louis never wanted their Jamaica days to end.

He resolved that, once they got home, he would try his hardest not to let them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I just adored Sweet Creature and this came out of my head one morning at 4am. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you liked this fic, I’d love you to share it! Click [here](https://iamasphodelknox.tumblr.com/post/160754791894/title-give-up-the-fight-author-asphodelknox) for the masterpost to reblog! Find me on tumblr [here](https://iamasphodelknox.tumblr.com/).


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